


The Commonwealth's Premier Artist

by killjoybekah



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, will add more tags as I write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoybekah/pseuds/killjoybekah
Summary: Nora is asked to investigate a place called Pickman Gallery by the Commonwealth's favorite Mayor, John Hancock. Nora is expecting a payout of caps at the end, with a promised date to talk about whatever information she learns while at the gallery. If anything, she was not expecting a curator that hunts down raiders and kills them for fun.
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, Pickman/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	1. Investigate Pickman Gallery

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure where this will lead. There are implied feelings between Nora and Hancock. I'm still thinking out how these relationships will play out over the course of the story. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

“Pickman Gallery?” the sole survivor asked again for clarification. “As in an art gallery? I didn’t know people still produced art… I’d be interested to see what you would bring to the table if they were to do a Mayor Hancock exhibition.”

“Hardy-har. I’ve got more art than the place could handle,” Hancock joked. “Get me some jet and some mentats and I could grind out a few masterpieces in an hour.”

“Well, if there is such a place,” Nora started. “You surely would have had this on your radar before all this? Maybe you can give me some information before I barge in?”

“Honestly, never heard of the place until recently,” he admitted. “There’s been a lot of weird talk coming in about the place. It’s raider territory up there, but they’ve been quiet.”

“Maybe they’re just passed out? I’m sure a lot of chems pass through, or into, raider hands,” she chuckled. Nora knew she didn’t believe her own words, but who knows with raiders. Out here, anything is possible. “I mean, there has to be an explanation for it.”

“Nah, this kind of quiet is different. Like uncomfortable post-coital quiet? Snopp it out, and give me the word,” he gave her a look as it to ask if she was prepared for such a quest. “Maybe you inquire how much a Hancock original goes for while you're there?”

“FIne,” Nora said accepting the task. She gave him a look, knowing here had to be more to the story but let it slide. This was only their third meeting, and the first ended with him stabbing the welcome party. Hancock seemed like a genuine guy that cared about his community, but even she had to admit that she barely knew the man. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get back. Maybe over a drink at The Third Rail?”

If Hancock was taken aback by her forwardness, he didn’t let it show. He gave her his award winning smile and chuckled. 

“Of course, Nora. It’s a date,” he tipped his tricorn hat as Farhenheit approached.

“See you when I get back, Mayor,” Nora replied, as she took Farhenheit’s approach to be her cue to leave. As she exited Goodneighbor, she couldn’t help but smile. 

Nora. Not a lot of people knew her first name. So far she had only slipped that information to him, while Piper continued to call her Blue. The only other person who knew her name was Codsworth, and he only was privy to that information because he knew her before all of this. All before she had been packed into that ice box and arbitrarily awoken one day. I guess it beats the alternative to being killed in that blast...

Hancock has an infectious personality and way about him that she never expected. Before she had arrived, she had no idea what to expect of the Mayor. Hell, she had never even met a ghoul before. All she knew was that some of the citizens of Diamond CIty viewed Goodneighbor to be filled with criminals. It was the Sodom and Gommorah to their Commonwealth. 

Mayor Hancock was something else, for sure. He was the chem-using, charismatic, charming, ghoul of Goodneighbor. One of a kind. After their original meeting, she hadn't known what to think of the man. He had stabbed Fin when he learned he was trying to extort money from the first time visitor, and yet treated her with kindness since that ‘exciting’ entrance. 

Their second meeting had happened by chance, as Nora was drinking at The Third Rail one night. She had been listening to Magnolia singing when the ghoul had sat beside her asking Whitechapel Charlie for a bottle of whiskey. 

“Newcomer,” Hancock greeted her. He glanced at her with the bottle in his hand.

“Nora,” she let out. She sucked in her breath. Shit, too much information and also too late to back out now. “I mean, uhh, my name is Nora.”

She hadn’t meant to tell him. It just slipped out. I guess that happens when you have a few drinks in quick succession after learning your son is older than you expected him to be. More like ten years old to be exact. Valentine was back at Hotel Rexford, choosing to be in solitude for the night to think over the implications of the mind-meld (something she was choosing to call the thing that had transpired between them at The Memory Den). 

“Nora,” Hancock corrected himself. He smiled at her and took a sip from the bottle. “Well, I hope you're enjoying your stay in my little settlement. If you need anything, just let me know. I take care of my people. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome.”

Glancing at her pipboy, she realized that the gallery was up ahead. 

“Just around the corner,” she muttered as she glanced down. For a brief moment she expected to see Dogmeat at her side, but was disappointed when she realized she had left him back at Sanctuary. She had wanted to go out alone this once and give her friend a break from running all around the Commonwealth.

As she rounded the corner, she crouched behind a nearby trash bin. Raiders. By the looks of it, three. She felt confident she could take them down if she was able to ambush them. As the raiders continued in their conversation, she shimmied her way over to the next trash bin. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were walking about.

“But Slab won’t leave a man breathing after he’s hunted our crew,” the man closest to the front door angrily said.

 _Hunted? Why would someone hunt down a whole crew of raiders?_ she pondered. _I guess I’m technically about to hunt them down now..._

“I heard Pickman skinned Roy alive after he snatched him, let the rats get at him,” the second raider chimed in. This one was closer to the trash bin she was situated behind. His back was turned to her, and he was leaning against the opposite side of the bin.

 _So, there is a Pickman who runs this gallery. What kind of curator would skin a raider? I guess one I should have expected in the Commonwealth,_ she thought. Trying to situate herself so she could hear them more clearly. _When they make their exit, that’s when I’ll get them._

She gripped her shotgun in one hand. She was close enough for it to make an impact, but she had to be quick. Who knew how many others were inside the building. It seemed like they were here to take revenge, and she didn’t know how deep this anger went

“Gives me the creeps,” the first raiders continued. The other two just nodded in response. 

“No joke,” the third said, finally interjecting in the conversation. He was against the wall, just opposite of the second. His body was faced forward, but he had been tilting his head to converse with the first. Must be the leader of the trio. “The faster we clip this asshole, the better. Everyone ready to head in?”

As the raiders overcame whatever remaining fear they had of entering the building and turned to the door, Nora jumped out and shot a few rounds at the raiders. She was thanking the gods she had done work on the tactical shotgun the day before, as they each fell to the ground in pain.

Walking to the door, she shot each individual one again. Knowing she had no idea what to expect on the other side of this door, she wanted to make sure nothing/ no one would be following in behind her anytime soon.

“So, a curator who hunts down raiders and skins them,” Nora muttered, looting each of the three raiders that had stood before her just a minute before. “Very interesting.”

Out of all the jobs that have been asked of her, this was starting out to be an interesting one. 


	2. Message to Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora enters Pickman Gallery and is hit by more than just the stench. Only getting through the first few raiders at the entrance, she can't help but wonder what else awaits her in this so called gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no sign of Pickman, but he should make an appearance in the next chapter. I am still trying to set up what sort of person Nora is, and exploring some of her past. I hope you enjoy!

The acrid stench hit her in the face before the raider standing by could. They must have found the gunshots and the deafening silence that followed to be a bit strange.   
  


She stumbled back from the hit, landing straight on her ass.  
  


_Great_ , she thought. _I guess this is how I'm going to die._ _In a decaying art gallery._   
  


She looked up to the man towering over her. His gun was still holstered, but that didn’t mean she shouldn't be worried. Nora tightened her grip on the shotgun, as the raider fully took in this action. The moment she hit that trigger, every raider in this place would become aware of her presence.  
  


“Come on, little girl,” the raider condescendingly spat. “Let’s do this.”   
  


He reached for the pistol strapped to his hip, but he wasn’t quick enough. Alerting everyone of her presence was a price to pay to still be living, even for the moment.  
  


Jumping to her feet, a couple bullets zoomed past her body.  _ Shit. _ Three raiders emerged from the shadows on the opposite end of the hall.Nora shot of a few rounds towards them, and lunged to the opening of the room to her left. If she could get a little cover, she could take back some advantage in this shoot off.  
  


She dived behind the table that sat in the middle of the room. Nora could hear the group run closer to her location, while she pulled out her laser pistol. She had 48 cells on her, so she had to make them all count.  
  


“Times up, asshole,” one of them shouted. A bullet lodged itself in the wall in front of Nora. “Next time, I won’t miss.”  
  


_ They always talk a big game. _   
  


“Why do they always gotta fight back,” another chimed in. Now they were just trying to get under her skin, and hope she made a mistake.  
  


Nora loaded her laser pistol and waited for a few more of their shots to go off. One hit the table, the wood taking the brunt of the damage. Another hit the wall again. This went on for a few more shots, while Nora focused on how many rounds had been taken in those moments. Once she heard the unmistakable sound of someone reloading, Nora popped her head slightly above the table and shot off at the raider closest to the table.   
  


She was right that two of them had to reload, but the other still had their gun pointed straight for her. Nora ducked quickly, as the bullet clipped the wood where her head had just been.   
  


“Coward!”   
  


_ I guess I hit a nerve, _ she silently chuckled. At least she knew where the remaining two were located. One had situated themselves to the right hand corner and the other to the left, both slowly making their way toward her.  
  


Another shot went off, the bullet colliding with the pike jutting out of the ground. They continued to get closer, conserving their own bullets until they could get a clearer shot.  
  


Nora took in a deep breath. It was now or be killed in the art gallery and become one of the pieces. She jumped out from behind the table, one of the raiders bullets lodging itself in her shoulder just before they dropped to the floor in a pile of goo. She used the remaining raiders surprise at this new tactic to take them out as well.   
  


She stood there in silence, waiting to hear the pounding of feet run her. But no one came. Nora knew others had to be in the building, yet there was silence.  
  


_ Either everyone is high on med-x or they must think the intruder was the one taken out.  
  
_

Nora winced in pain. The rush of adrenaline after the shoot out was wearing off, and the pain from her shoulder finally hit her like a, well, bullet.   
  


She plopped herself behind the table, took off her backpack, and pulled out her Vault Tec lunchbox. She found it was a convenient place to store her chems and other medical tools. In this case, she first needed a pair of tweezers and some alcohol. Thank goodness she always kept her stash well stocked in preparation for whatever the Commonwealth could throw her way.  
  


Nora downed one of the small travel size whiskeys, before pouring the second one over the tweezers and her wound. The bullet wasn't lodged deeply into her shoulder, so digging the tweezers into the wound to retrieve the foreign object wasn't as bad as it could have been (even if it still hurt like a bitch). She grabbed the stimpak and jabbed it into her shoulder, relief washing over her face as she could feel the meds start to take effect.  
  


"Next time I'll be sure to bring Dogmeat along," she murmured to herself. "Or at least Codsworth."   
  


Nora stood and finally took in the room.   
  


Red. A color that must be a favorite of Pickman, as each painting on display used a generous amount of different shades of red. One piece immediately stood out to her, and it was labeled  _ Picnic for Stanley.  _ It was a painting of a man whose eyes had been plucked him his head, with yellow liquid dripping from the empty sockets.   
  


Heads were displayed on each pike that decorated the room. She couldn't help but wonder what warranted such macabre affection from the artist.  
  


_ I guess that's where the small is coming from.  
  
_

In her past life, she would have run. Run as far from this place as her legs could take her. But now, she just took it all in and appreciated the dark beauty that each work of art presented.  
  


Tearing her eyes away from the pieces, she saw the body of a man lying to the left of the table she had previously taken refugee behind. Nora stepped closer, and noticed a holotape in the back pocket of the pants. She grabbed the holotape, stuck it into the receptacle on her pipboy, and listened.  
  


"Seth, it's me," the distressed voice of a main began. "I found out what happened to the scouts who went missing up by the old art gallery. They're… they're dead, Seth. I'm looking at a… a goddamn painting of Kyle's body! Oh god… what the hell did they do to him?"  
  


The sound of someone else happily humming sung out.   
  


"Who the hell's there?" the first man questioned. He seemed terrified of what was to come.   
  


"Admiring my collection?" Pickman sounded like he was enjoying this interaction with the scared man. "I'm afraid it's not complete yet. Soon, though."  
  


"Stay away from me psycho!"  
  


"Yes. Just like that," Pickman admired. "Hold that expression on your face."  
  


Click. The holotape concluded all that had been recorded on it.  
  


_ This isn't what I signed up for. Hell, I didn't sign up for any of this.   
  
_

In her previous life, she had been an artist of sorts. More of the performing kind. Nora was a ballet dancer. Or had been at least. She'd had a good career for a while. Dancing in New York, London, Australia, and even Paris. The only reason she had quit was Shaun.  
  


She couldn't be a mom and a dancer.   
  


The job of being a parent had been demanding. Not only on her body, but on her relationship with Nate. He tried to be as present as he could, but he was a military man. Nate could be away for long periods of time, leaving her to care for the home and for Shaun by herself. Some days had been harder than others, but they could get through anything together.   
  


_ We had gotten through everything together…  
  
_

Nora closed her eyes and let out a deep breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding in. Indulging herself for a minute longer, she performed the five basic positions of ballet. She ended with her arms above her head in an O shape, with one leg in front of the other. Even doing something so simple left her heart beating. Just for a moment, she felt free.  
  


Oh, how she had missed the fine arts.  
  


Taking a bow, Nora couldn’t help but chuckle.   
  


“Thank you, thank you,” she began. Nora raised herself from the bow, looking around the room once again. “You’ve been a wonderful crowd, and an attentive one at that!”  
  


Nora grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulders, and slipped the laser pistol into her right hand.   
  


__ Time to see what awaits me in the rest of this gallery.  
  


With that, she walked deeper into the depths of Pickman Gallery.


	3. Meeting Pickman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora finally clears out the remaining raiders, and is surprised by what she finds at the end of the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet Pickman in this chapter! This is a bit longer than the previous two were, but I wanted to get to her meeting him. I went into depth on her getting there. I wanted it to make sense as to why he calls her killer. The next chapter will have more Hancock in it, when Nora makes her way back to Goodneighbor to tell him everything she saw at Pickman Gallery. I hope you enjoy!

Nora squatted to lock pick the door in the same room the shootout had just occurred. Once unlocked, she chuckled realizing that it was connected to the hallway from the entrance. It was a kitchen area.   
  


A man in long johns lifelessly rested on the kitchen table, while another painting kept watch of the room. She wondered how many more of these she would run across in this building. Both dead bodies and paintings. Nora took a step forward and glanced to her right and noticed something strange. A bathroom with walls covered in plungers.  
  


_Was this the work of Pickman or the raiders?_ _I could imagine raiders having a strange sense of humor.  
  
_

She left the body for last, picking clean the ammo box and first aid kit. While she had no use for a pair of long johns, she found a note neatly put away in the pocket. It was Pickman’s calling card. There was a heart neatly painted in blood in the bottom left corner, with the words “Pickman was here. Find me if you dare” written neatly at the top.  
  


“He wanted them all to come to him,” she pondered aloud. “How strong is this Pickman if he thinks he can take all these raiders on alone?”  
  


Nora placed the note in her own pocket, taking a moment to ponder if she should cut her losses and head back for Hancock or to continue the search for this mysterious Pickman. Surely, this was enough intel for Hancock. She found the recording and a calling card. Couldn’t she just head back now?  
  


_ No, _ she thought.  _ I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I haven’t come across a good mystery in a while.  
  
_

Before leaving the room, she noticed another locked door. This one was much more difficult than the kitchen door. She tried to lock pick it a couple times, both attempts leading to broken bobby pins. No, this would prove to be too difficult for her skills.  
  


Crouching, Nora began to sneak her way back to the stairs she had spotted when she had first stepped into the gallery. There had to be raiders up there. She was surprised they hadn’t run down the stairs upon hearing the commotion. Not knowing how many were upstairs made her nervous. Halfway up the stairs, she equipped one of the five molotovs she had. If anything, she would be prepared for a large group of them. From what she had heard from the others that now littered the first floor, the leader held a grudge and wanted his revenge. Nora had to be ready for anything.  
  


Reaching the top of the stairs, she was met with a few choices. Three doors. All open, inviting her in to get shot by whatever waited beyond them. Instead of chancing luck, she snuck to the door farthest to the right. Before she could fully enter, she heard the footsteps of a raider coming her way.  
  


_ Shit, I must not have been as quiet as I thought. _ Nora continued down the corridor into another bathroom, just as the man walked out the opposite way with a gun drawn.   
  


“I must have a fucking concussion,” the man said in disbelief. “I’m seeing things.”  
  


Before he could turn back around to return to the room he emerged from, she put a well placed 10mm bullet into his head. He crumpled into a heap, and before Nora knew it, the rest of the building came alive with the shouts of raiders.  
  


Hurriedly, she retreated back near the bathroom to take them on as they ran her way. A molotov flew her way, but she ducked for retreat in the nick of time.   
  


_ They must have had the same idea as me.  
  
_

A man rounded the corner, but she filled him with enough bullets he collapsed as well. She waited for a minute, listening for other footsteps that would be heading her way, but she heard nothing. At least on this floor. There had to be a couple men upstairs, and they were waiting for her.  
  


Before heading upstairs, she strolled through the rooms on this floor. She saw three more bodies left from Pickman, resting on beds as though they were asleep. She would be kidding herself if she said the first body didn’t make her jump. They looked peaceful, though ready to jump up at a moments notice if one were to get too close to wake them.  
  


After grabbing any chems and ammo she could find, she decided to finally make her way upstairs. Another three door setup, where she chose the door to the right. She regretted this as she stepped in and saw a man standing there with a pipe bolt-action pistol. Thankfully they had surprised each other, as she had a moment to jump behind the dresser in the corner.  
  


She had enough bullets for her hardened 10mm pistol to shoot off at random. If she was correct, she had 150 10mm bullets on her. Nora must have hit him at least once, as the man screamed in pain. Taking this chance, she came out of hiding and hit him a couple more times before he also crumpled into a heap.   
  


Standing in front of the doorway, she spotted another raider crouching at the opposite end of the hallway. Instead of coming straight for him, she noticed a hole in the way. She ran through one room into the other towards the man, and came right out behind him. This finally gave her the chance to kill off the last raider on this floor.  
  


Nora dropped to the ground to catch her breath. Taking her backpack off, she winced. Another raider had been able to land a hit, though this was only a scrape. Looking behind her, she noticed two first aid kits.  
  


“Well, if it isn’t my lucky day,” Nora laughed. She grabbed at the boxes and emptied the contents. In total there were two stimpaks, purified water, and radaway. One of the stimpaks went straight to her arm where the bullet had grazed her and the water went straight into her mouth. Who knew this much commotion would leave a person thirsty?  
  


Taking a few breaths, she stood again and noticed something else that made her feel lucky. There had been a trap placed at the door where the raider had been crouched near. It was connected to a missile launcher.  
  


“Well, I don’t mind if I do,” she excitedly whispered. Sure, it was heavy, but it would come in hand for later. She dug through her bag and dropped any armor she had been saving to melt down on the ground and a couple pieces of odd clothing that never would have offered her any protection in the first place. Anything to free up some weight to carry this beast.  
  


She had a total of 7 missiles on her. Nora had made a stop at the bank near Diamond City.  _ Thank you whoever decided to stow away missiles in their safety deposit box before the war. I’ll have to make another trip back whenever I’m able to get a bit better at this lock picking thing…  
  
_

After grabbing her new loot, she went back to the room she started at on this floor. There had been another hole in the way, and this one lead her into the wall itself. Entering the wall, she had to jump down into a hole in the ground. It felt like it was leading her back to where she started, except on the other side of the wall. Or in the wall…  
  


She stood above the last hole that leads to a basement area. Nora was nervous yet excited in the most bizarre way possible. She was excited to finally get to the end, but damn she was ready to meet this Pickman. Taking a deep breath, she jumped to the bottom.  
  


The raiders she immediately met were easy to take out. Their armor offered them little protection. They didn’t stand a chance against her hardened 10mm.  _ If only they could all be this easy.  
  
_

In the middle of the room stood another painting. This caused a twist in her gut, not from the blood that she knew the red was produced from, but from trying to understand what the painting was trying to tell her.   
  


Hands were shooting up from a fire, grasping towards the eye that floated above them. Were they reaching to escape? For understanding? Or were they reaching towards something that would be impossible to obtain? Was she the hands in the painting? Forever reaching for something she would never be able to obtain? Her life before the war and the vault. Shaun before he was 10 years old, and still an infant. A husband that was still alive and happy, waiting for her back at Sanctuary.  
  


“I’m looking to deep into this,” Nora muttered. “It’s just a raider filled painting, made by a mad man. There isn’t supposed to be depth to this… Right?”  
  


_ Let’s just push forward. This place is starting to give me a bad feeling.  
  
_

Nora went down the stairs, by a pile of raider bodies, further into the catacombs. It didn’t feel right to continue calling it a basement. This was so much more.   
  


As she walked further, she noticed a mine placed in the hallway. It made her uneasy to disarm them. She didn’t feel like losing an arm because of a mistake. Instead of trying the disarm it, she tried to quietly jump over it. Try was the optimal word. While she made it, a man was alerted to her.  
  


_ Just how many raiders does it take to hunt down an artist?  _ She laughed. It was the start to a bad joke she didn’t know how to finish.  
  


At least the raider who heard her was another easy one to take down. He was alone in the catacombs rotunda, which made it easier for her to shoot him down. Though she began to worry about the amount of 10mm ammo she still had on her. She hoped it would be enough, though this place seemed to never end.  
  


Further she went. This was her point of no return. She had gone too far to just go back now. Nora could almost taste it. Though, it was mostly from the stench of the raiders bodies that caused that.  
  


The next room was flooded with water, with two raiders walking atop pipes.They were walking past each other, allowing a well thrown molotov to take them both out with ease.  
  


“Please let him be close by,” she almost begged. The mystery was starting to eat at her, but so was the amount of raiders she was putting down to get to him. How many had she killed by this point? She had already lost count.  
  


Glancing at her pipboy, she realized that even if she was close to the end, there were still a few enemies waiting ahead. Probably stationed in the next room. And more raiders will be stationed in the room after that. And then more after that. A never ending cycle.  
  


Nora growled. “No, we will get to the end. I have to.”  
  


In the next room, there was another couple raiders with a turret ready for her. Throwing her backpack down, she loaded up the missile launcher. She had it on her, so she might as well use it.  
  


While the raiders yelled obscenities at her to throw her off, she crouched, aimed, and took the shot. After that was nothing but silence.  
  


“What, got nothing else to say to me,” she commented. Picking up her bag once more, she walked by the bodies. She didn’t care about looting them anymore. She was focused on one thing. Finding Pickman.  
  


Going into the next room, she was unprepared for what waited. There was another turret, but instead of just a couple raiders like before, one of them was a hulking brute. Nora didn’t see these often. They were tough, could take a bullet like a tank, and were more bloodthirsty than ten raiders combined. She had called them legendary before, the first time she ran across one.  
  


They had spotted her too. She had tried to come around the corner unseen, but she had made a mistake. In her anger, she once again grabbed for her missile launcher and backed into the room she emerged from.  
  


_ Fuck it, I have six of these left. If I have to shoot them all off at random to kill these guys, then so be it.  
  
_

And that was what she did. After sending one missile flying, she went straight to loading the next one in. She did this four times, until the obscenities of the raiders came to an end and the clicking of the turret was no more. Walking into the room, it was a bloodbath. The missiles had torn them apart, limb from limb.  
  


_ I wonder how Pickman would feel seeing this. Disgusted or excited?  
  
_

Practically running past the room, and through the corridors, she finally heard it.   
  


“Finally got you, Pickman,” what she assumed was the leader, Slab, called out.   
  


Crouching once more, she continued until she was overlooking three raiders with theirs guns aimed, staring down one single man. Pickman.  
  


“Thought you could hunt and torture our people to your heart’s content,” Slab continued. He was angry. He had to have come the same way she had, and had to have walked by the same bodies. Those from his own gang. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”  
  


Jumping from her perch, she began shooting at Slab and the two raiders that accompanied him. He was tough, she would give him that. But it was much easier now that she had a helping hand in taking them down.  
  


It was something to watch Pickman go. He was armed only with a knife, but he knew how to use it. He took down one of the women, as she continued to fill Slab with 10mm bullets. She was glad there were pillars scattered in the room, or she knew she would be dead. While she missed a few shots because of them, they gave her much needed cover to take Slab down.  
  


Once he hit the ground, Nora turned around in time to see Pickman drive a knife into the remaining raider. Blood poured from the wound, as they fell to the floor in pain. She walked over a put a bullet into their head, allowing them a quick death. Even for a raider, no one deserved to go out like that.  
  


Nora holstered her weapon, as she walked closer to Pickman. For what it was worth, he was handsome. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. His once clean suit was now covered in blood. His black hair still neatly combed back, even after all of the commotion.   
  


“That was close,” he started. His voice wasn’t as menacing or threatening as she expected either. He was rather soft spoken, with a strangeness to how the words were delivered. “Thank you. Those people deserved worse than death.”  
  


“Why do they want you so badly?” Nora questioned. She knew, but she wanted to hear it come from his own mouth.  
  


“A small disagreement,” Pickman chuckled. “They objected to my hobby of collecting their heads. Let me repay you.”  
  


“You don’t owe me anything,” she began, waving her hands in front of her as if to show she really didn’t need anything from this man. “I would have done it either way.”  
  


“That’s all the more reason to reward you.” “If you visit my house again, look deep within my painting “Picnic for Stanley” and you will find my gratitude. You’ll need this.”  
  


He handed you a key. Nora chuckled, noticing the Vaultboy head on his key ring. He gave you a quizzical look.  
  


“I know you collect heads, but I didn’t realize it extended to the Vaultboy as well,” Nora joked. “Just wasn’t expecting the key ring.”  
  


“Oh, yes,” he laughed. “That is funny, isn’t it?”  
  


“Thanks for the gift, I guess,” Nora let out. This was all a little anticlimactic.  
  


“Thanks for the help, I guess,” he retorted. “Well, see you around, Killer.”  
  


With that, he left. Just walked away like it was nothing, leaving her behind with the corpses of two unnamed raiders and Slab. She wasn’t able to make mention of his paintings, of the heads that stood on spikes in the main room of the gallery, or anything. Pickman was just gone.  
  


“Killer, huh,” Nora let out. She finally smiled. “I kind of like that.” 


	4. The Promised Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora heads back to Goodneighbor to tell Hancock the good news. She had officially (minus Pickman) cleared out the gallery. As promised, they make their way to The Third Rail to go on the date that had been mentioned at the start of the quest. At some point during the night, Pickman arrives. He's curious to learn more about Nora, the woman who saved him. The woman he now dubbed as Killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very Nora and Hancock heavy chapter. Pickman only makes a slight appearance at the end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Nora was, to say the least, disappointed. She had killed every raider who presented a threat to her in Pickman Gallery, only to discover a man of little words. Even without having any expectations of what she would discover at the end, she felt duped. Though, she had hoped for a bigger payout than what she had gotten.  
  


Looking around once more, she couldn’t help but stare down the corpse of Slab. It was strange to think that the raiders in these gangs gave a shit about each other. They were so heartless when it came to any other Commonwealth citizen, gunning down defenseless settlers all for a tato. She often forgot that they also had feelings, significant others, possibly even children. Slab had gathered all of his crew just to take down one insignificant artist, all in the name of revenge.  
  


_ I wonder how many families I’ve torn apart this last month _ , Nora thought, ruminating on all the good she thought she had been doing.   
  


“Killer.” The word escaped her. No matter how much she tried to do good in the Commonwealth, she was still just a killer. Still, it had a ring to it coming from him. Nora didn’t dwell on it too long, taking a moment to loot anything useful from the bodies.  
  


Climbing up the ladder, she made her escape from the cellar. What greeted her was the remains of a two story building, with her at the top. It made her wonder if he made the exit from here often. Or if he ever found himself crawling in through a window to make an entrance, sight unseen.  
  


After crawling out the window at the bottom floor, she glanced for a second, and took a step forward to turn away. Instead. She ended up walking back through the door she stepped through only an hour before. She was curious as to what she would find behind the painting Pickman had mentioned.  
  


There she was again, coming face to face with “Picnic for Stanley”. Stanley’s eyes, technically sockets where you would have found them, still leaking the strange, yellow liquid. Those black pits staring into you, unflinching. Gripping the sides, she put the painting to the side. Using the key Pickman had given to her minutes before, she unlocked the wall safe.  
  


Inside were two things. The first was a letter. It seemed fresh, as the red paint (most likely blood) used to write it was still drying. It’s format was the same as his calling cards. Writing in the top corner, a heart painted in the bottom right. Instead of a taunting message to goad the raiders into coming to him, it was a simple thank you note.  
  


“Thanks, Killer.” She stared at the note a moment, wondering if she should think more into the oddity. She had never received a thank you note before. At least, not in a Post-War world. Smiling, she folded this note and tucked it into her breast pocket. Sentimentality would be the death of her.  
  


The second object in the safe was…  _ Pickman’s knife? Hadn’t he just been using this in the fight with Slab and his gang?   
  
_

“What a strange guy,” Nora whispered. She grabbed the leather hilt, carefully putting it into the hilt that was conveniently attached to her belt.  
  


Entering Goodneighbor, Nora went straight to the Old State House. As she went up the spiral staircase, what waited for her was Fahrenheit. They had rarely spoken to one another. Fahrenheit was distrustful of people, and even more so of Nora. No matter what Nora did to help those around her in the Commonwealth and even Goodneighbor, Fahrenheit treated her like an outsider.   
  


_ I guess distrust is just ingrained in everyone's life here in the Commonwealth.  
  
_

Fahrenheit stood waiting by the stairs, one foot propped up behind her on the wall. Before Nora could greet her, Fahrenheit addressed her first.  
  


“You ever play chess?” Fahrenheit asked. Nora knew it was rhetorical, so she chose to remain silent. “Sometimes you have to sacrifice a piece to keep the game going. Keep that in mind.” With that, Fahrenheit made her exit.  
  


Nora didn’t think she would ever be able to crack that woman’s hard, outer exterior. Instead of dwelling on that fact, she made her entrance into what she would call Hancock’s office. It was certainly his style. Mostly covered in chems ranging from med-x and stimpaks to psych and jet. If you wanted chems (and was in his good graces), he was your hookup.  
  


“How’s my little scout doing?” Hancock asked, leaning back into the sofa. His arms now resting on the back. “Did everything go alright at Pickman Gallery?”  
  


“How do I even start?” Nora laughed. She really had no idea where to start. How was one even supposed to start with a story like that. The whole thing now seeming like a fever dream from hell.  
  


“You don’t have to spill everything yet,” Hancock said, interrupting her train of thought. “While I did some of these chems earlier, I am still able to recall an earlier conversation about a date? Possibly at The Third Rail?”  
  


“I think I recall that as well,” Nora nervously replied. She was nervous to be thinking of going on a date at all. She had met Nate when they were young. In high school to be exact. It had been a while since she had been on a first date, and this is without counting the couple hundred years or so she was frozen in the vault. “How about I freshen up a bit, and I’ll be back in a little?”  
  


“Sounds like a plan, doll,” Hancock smiled. He was sincere in everything he did. The way he talked, looked, and even smiled. He really was something else.  
  


Nora was glad she did go and freshen up. Her vault suit was covered in dirt, grime, and blood. A lone ear had even fallen out of the fold of her boot. It was times like these she was glad she paid to have a permanent room at Hotel Rexford. She always left a few spare outfits laying around the place. The term pack rat would be an understatement. Nora always had the hardest time letting go of things once she put some sentimental value in it.   
  


Looking around, she spotted a dress on the desk in the room. Nora had recently come across on her way to Goodneighbor for the first time at Fallon’s department store. It was a laundered blue dress with light blue dots scattered across the fabric. There had even been a pair of tan heels that she had grabbed to go along with it. So far, there had been little reason for her to wear it. Until now.  
  


Placing her belt on the bed, Pickman’s knife glinted in the light.  
  


_ “See you around, Killer” _ The conversation kept replaying in her head.  
  


“Yeah, see you around,” she muttered. It was unlikely she would ever see him again. There was little reason to revisit old, cleared out locations. Just as long as she emptied it of all its important contents. She lightly brushed her fingers against the knife, and quickly went back to getting dressed for her date.  
  


It didn’t take her long to finish getting ready before she headed back out to the Old State House. She was surprised when she saw Hancock waiting for her just outside the entrance facing Hotel Rexford. As usual, he was adorning his John Hancock attire. It suited him well.   
  


“You clean up nice,” Hancock whistled once he saw her walking his way. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”  
  


“I don’t really have a chance to wear them now a days,” Nora commented, flattening the front of her outfit. “I don’t think they offer the best protection against a super mutant.”  
  


“You’d be surprised by how some people can modify clothing these days,” he replied with a smile. “Either way, it suits you. I’m glad that you made it back in one piece.”  
  


“I know. Hotel Rexford is a real sketchy place,” Nora joked. “I hear they even deal chems there. The nerve.”  
  


“Wow, scum I tell ya,” Hancock replied in jest. He laughed, but turned back to her in all seriousness. “But, you know what I mean. I’m glad your safe.”  
  


“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Nora smiled at him. “Ready to head out?”  
  


“After you, doll.”   
  


With that they made the, very short, trek to the bar. It felt different, entering the door in the company of Hancock. She had drank here before, but this felt more intimate. This was a date, and all of Goodneighbor would know about it by the morning.  
  


Ham, the bouncer who stood at the front, looked at them knowingly. He had never been cold to her. He just tended to be too busy to stand around and talk.   
  


“Any friend of Hancock, is a friend of The Third Rail,” Ham greeted them, as they approached the stairs. She blushed at the implication, but Hancock only nodded at him in acknowledgement.   
  


On their walk to the bar counter, Hancock paused.  
  


“Well, shit,” he muttered. He looked to the right side of the bar, making eye contact with a drifter. Her eyes going wide, as if she didn’t expect to see him there that night. “I’m sorry to do this, but just give me a second. I just have a little business to discuss.”

  
Before she could reply, he walked off.   
  


“Oh hey, Mayor. I didn’t realize you were going to be here,” the drifter began. She was nervous. The people of Goodneighbor generally tried to keep on his good side, if they could help it. “I’ll have the caps for you soon, I promise.”  
  


Instead of listening in to the remainder of the conversation, she ordered a beer from White Chapel Charlie and sat at the bar. Nora had listened to Magnolia sing before, just the once when she was drinking away some of her sorrows. Realizing your kid grew up without you while you were frozen, even if he was still just around the age of 10, could take its toll.

Nora didn’t realize she had been staring intently at the stage, until Magnolia strode up to her. Magnolia was confident. Nora wasn’t sure she could pull of a red, sequin dress the same way Magnolia could. She was still a little unsure about the dress she had decided tonight. Sure, Hancock had complimented her, but that didn’t make her any less nervous.  
  


“What’s the matter sweetheart. Don’t tell me you didn’t like the song?” Magnolia asked, bringing her out of her trance.   
  


“I love the song,” Nora choked out, some of her beer getting caught at the back of her throat. She was embarrassed, coughing to catch her breath again. Magnolia only smiled knowingly. Once Nora found her voice again she continued. “It was perfect.”  
  


“Angelic, as usual. Mags,” Hancock commented, wrapping his arm around Nora’s shoulder. Nora couldn’t tell when he had concluded his chat with the drifter, or when he had reappeared. He did smile at Nora, liking how nice she tried to be to everyone she met.  
  


“Oh, thank you. A girl tries her best,” Magnolia grinned at the compliment. It took her a second to realize what she was seeing in front of her. The pair now clearly looked to be on a date. Her plan had been to come up to the woman and have a little banter, maybe even flirt a little. Instead she winked at Hancock. “I think I’ll leave you two alone. The night is still young. Enjoy yourselves.”  
  


“Did you want to head back to the VIP lounge?” Hancock proposed after ordering a Gwinnett Stout for himself.“It’s a little more private, and we can discuss some of what you found at Pickman Gallery.”  
  


“Sure, I think that sounds like a good idea,” she responded. She hadn’t noticed how busy the bar was becoming. It was beginning to become hard to hear one another over the voices of drunken drifters talking, and Magnolia’s singing.  
  


Standing from her spot at the bar, they made their way to the VIP lounge. She had been back here before. It was the first time she had met MacCready. They had spoken for a minute, after she had watched the two gunners harass him. So far, she hadn't needed a hired hand as a companion.   
  


They both sat down on the red sofa, across from the door. There wasn’t a proper table and chairs, so she kept the beer cupped in her hands.  
  


“So, tell me more about this Pickman Gallery?” Hancock questioned. “Were you able to figure out how much a Hancock original would sell for?”  
  


“I don’t think whatever you could make would fit into a place like that,” she muttered. He gave her a quizzical look, with one eyebrow raised. “Not to say that you couldn’t make paint something amazing.”  
  


She paused momentarily, trying to figure out where to start.  
  


“You know why they called it the Pickman Gallery?” Her words coming back to her.  
  


“No… That was the whole point of the whole job, remember?” he laughed in return. Hancock did seem to perk at learning about whatever she saw there. “I’ll give though. Why do they call it Pickman Gallery?”  
  


“Let’s just say, Pickman’s art isn't going to have a lot of resale value once all the bodies start decaying...” Nora shivered at the thought. The building had already been accumulating a smell, she didn’t want to imagine what it would be like in a month or even a week.   
  


“Well, they say all artistic inspiration is ephemeral, am I right?” Hancock joked. “Wish I could say that was the most twisted thing I’ve ever heard of, but it ranks up there. Top three. I’ll put the word out, though. Tell people to stay clear of that area… Meeting you was one of my better moments. Here’s a few caps for a job well done. I’m really glad we could both be here tonight. Ya’ hear me?”  
  


“Yeah, I hear ya’,” she smiled. She couldn’t help but do that in his presence. He was a sweet guy, who knew how to make her smile. Even if he was just nearby, he was able to bring a smile to her face. She raised her glass. Hancock returned the gesture, and they gently tapped their drinks together. “To a job well done.”  
  


Hancock nodded in agreement. “To us,” he added. He gave her a wink, causing her to blush. Once again, the beer she had just taken a swallow of getting caught in her throat. Embarrassed, she coughed for a moment.   
  


“To us.”  
  


They spent the next few hours in the VIP lounge, laughing and swapping stories. He was curious what the world was like before the bombs dropped, and she was curious how one even becomes a mayor in times like these.  
  


They were so wrapped up in their fun that they didn’t notice a man sitting at a table just outside the VIP lounge, periodically taking glances at the pair. Eavesdropping on any little information he could learn about them. Though mostly, he was curious about her. Nora. The woman who had saved him. His Killer.   
  


All things happen in due time.


End file.
